Before You
by TheSouthernScribe
Summary: The final LJ Ship Wars entry for Team McHura. Follows the linguist and the doctor on the journey from friends to more...


**Title:** Before You  
**Ship:** McHura  
**Universe:** AOS/Reboot - Tomato...Tomatoe  
**Author:** Team McHura  
**Rating:** PG  
**Words:** 4076  
**Warnings:** Fluff - Angst - in case that's not your thing  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own them but oh how we love to toy with their emotions  
**Quotation:** _"I love you, not for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you." __  
__- Roy Croft _

**_Part I. How She Saved His Friendship With Jim…_**

There was no happily ever after in roommate land.

Jim ate the pecan pies McCoy's mother sent from Georgia.

Jim did not understand the term personal space. Every single conversation had to be held with their noses damned near touching. If he wasn't forced to listen to a new girl hit eight octaves every single night he would have sworn that the kid was trying to get in his pants.

Then James Tiberius Kirk crossed the line.

There were a few things that Leonard McCoy held sacred. One of those things was folded neatly and stacked in the top drawer of his cherry wood chest. They were silk spun cotton and expertly cut for his body. They never rode up on his hips or bunched around his legs. It was one of life's simple comforts to have the perfect pair of boxers. That is until your roommate discovered, prostituted, and destroyed that comfort beyond recognition.

Leonard McCoy's hands were stretched and ready, his fingertips brushed against the clammy skin of his roommate's neck, and the pending grip would surely suck the life out of the kid's body.

"Dammit Jim, for the last time, clean boxers in my drawer, are not available for your unlimited personal use. And please don't put them back after they've been worn. It's disgusting. It's stupid. It's unsanitary."

With his blood pressure fully elevated and his last nerve properly aggravated, Leonard connected with Jim's neck. He squeezed, shook, and seriously considered punching the blue eyed fool despite the irreparable damage it may have caused to his hands.

"Bones, I can't breathe." Jim's eyes were bugged and for the first time it became painfully clear that quite possibly his buddy was capable of death. He clawed at the doctor's hands in an ill fated struggle to break free.

"That's the point you backwoods idiot." Leonard fought off Jim's escape attempts and tightened his grip on his neck.

"This would almost be _sexually _exciting if I weren't losing consciousness, _Bones_." Jim's standard nickname for his friend came out in a gurgled tone that was barely audible.

Guilt settled in Leonard's stomach and he knew he couldn't go through with it. He just needed to scare the crap out of Jim for the third time this week and maybe just maybe his unmentionables would be off limits. The slightest touch on his shoulder pulled him from his ongoing debate and without thinking he released his friend. Leonard watched as Jim fell back wincing and gasping for air as he clutched the counter. He thanked his savior before he turned tail and ran at top speed out of the laundry room.

"Next time mind your own god…" The words caught in his throat when his eyes connected with a pool of soft chocolate brown eyes.

"Remember your Hippocratic oath Doctor McCoy." Two plump lips brushed his earlobe as they continued; "Besides you know you'd miss him." Nyota Uhura smiled wickedly as she sauntered out of the room, keeping her gaze trained on Leonard the entire time.

Five minutes later when his thoughts were clear and not solely centered on that woman's curves, he decided it was a good idea to plan sporadic attempts on his friend's life if it meant being interrupted, touched, and teased by a cadet as beautiful as Nyota Uhura.

McCoy didn't see Jim for the next few days. He knew that his friend was avoiding him after he had deprived his brain of much needed oxygen.

Still, there was only so much he could take from Jim; using his drawers, folding them neatly, putting them back as if he couldn't tell they had been worn – broke every last rule of their tentative friendship.

Nyota said he'd miss him, "Hmph!" It was worth a try. His mouth watered as she swirled a long fry around in ketchup. And he wasn't sure if it was from hunger or a deeper unspoken desire. Since that day in the laundry room they'd become lunch buddies and study partners. It was a welcomed diversion for McCoy.

There was a dab on of red on her chin as she spoke, "You know you can't stay mad at him," The fry disappeared into her mouth and her eyes closed in silent reverie. "You are his very _bestest _friend."

"I'm his _only_ friend." McCoy quipped. "He ought to appreciate that!"

Still, he had to admit that he was much grumpier without Jim and only the presence of Nyota seemed to make him feel normal again. Jim was most likely holed up with one of his many conquests and probably returned to the room only when he knew that he wasn't there. Being the slob that he was, McCoy could tell that he had been there.

By the sixth day and no Jim, McCoy had to admit that he was a little worried and that maybe he had scared his friend more than he realized. Dammit! He wasn't about to apologize! This was all Jim's fault!

He walked towards the dorm dreading the quiet and emptiness that he knew he would find there. Nyota was still in class and it would be another hour before they met for their study _date_.

He was surprised at the neatness of the room when he walked in. Nothing was out of place. Jim's bed was neatly made and so was his.

Nyota!

Only she could be responsible for this gloriously clean space. Maybe she'd gotten tired of listening to him whine during their lunches and library time.

She didn't have to do this! She certainly didn't have to clean up Jim's side of the room.

He noticed immediately that there was a neat bundle of boxers wrapped in a red ribbon on his bed. He picked them up and examined the stack closely. The door opened and Jim walked in looking sheepish sporting the lopsided grin that he knew all too well. He looked at the package McCoy was holding.

"So you like my present?" he asked grinning.

"You? I don't believe it." McCoy snapped.

"She made me clean the room too." Jim admitted still grinning.

McCoy stared at him in disbelief. "How in the world did Nyota get you to do what I haven't been able to get you to do since we became roommates?"

Jim shuffled his feet and wouldn't meet McCoy eyes.

"Well?" McCoy asked crossing his arms.

"You were going to kill me – end my life – cut of the supply of awesome that is Jim Kirk."

The doctor finally quirked a rare smile, "I just wanted you to respect my space."

"About that," Jim settled on his bed with a finger raised slightly in the air, "No more conversations where we share spit. No more wearing your underwear. No more being a…wait…how did she put it…a shit for brains idiot who couldn't possibly appreciate the world's _bestest _friend."

McCoy couldn't help himself. He fell back on his bed laughing uncontrollably.

**_Part II. Crazy Glue and Broken Hearts_**

Leonard McCoy lived by a code.

_Mind your own damn business. _

It kept him out of the middle of his friend's disagreements. No one ever turned to him and said, "Hey McCoy, what do you think I should do?" They knew his answer would be preceded by slanted eyes, furrowed brow, and a tense jaw.

Hell he was a doctor not an advice columnist.

He was done caring and interceding on the behalf of others. Injuries, illnesses, and impairments those were his thing; not the delicate psyche of the people around him. Jocelyn had spoiled McCoy for everyone else. She proved that caring got you nowhere but flat out broke with a shattered heart. Yes his mouth had ran long and hard on that first transport ride next to Iowa, but he could blame the aviophobia. It wouldn't happen again. No one would ever get close to him and if that meant he had to constantly hear McCoy and cold – hearted bastard in the same sentence, so be it.

That's the lie McCoy repeated over and over again as he tried to ignore the crying figure in the corner of the Observation Deck. Everyone's nerves were on edge. Watching a planet implode and an entire population obliterated had that effect on you. Something told him that the reason for her tears ran deeper. They were colleagues. She'd saved his career during their early academy days. There was always a warm smile gracing her lips just for him whenever they passed in the corridors. He willed his feet to go in the opposite direction; to return to sickbay. They had a mind of their own. Where he thought it was better to forget the doe – eyed girl with the melodious laugh; his feet strapped tightly into a regulation pair of size tens followed the sound of her whimpers in the darkness. He stood behind her not uttering a word as he waited for her to acknowledge his presence.

"Uhura." His tone was terse. He hated the way his southern drawl mutilated her name. It came across as a reprimand instead of a lyric from the song she often inspired in his head.

No response came. McCoy watched helpless as she fell into the façade of _the_ Lt. Uhura. Within seconds the tracks of her tears disappeared, a full smile bloomed on her face, but the fire in her eyes was non – existent. His heart broke for her.

And then the words rang loud and clear in his ears.

_You're a cold – hearted bastard McCoy._

He silenced the mantra and reached for her hand, "Darlin' what's the matter?"

He didn't expect for her to accept the offer of comfort. His hand trembled while his pulse quickened in those seconds he waited for her to make a move.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Tears stained his shirt.

McCoy did the only thing he knew to do. He pulled her tighter and hummed his daughter's favorite tune.

_Hush little darlin'…_

_Don't you cry…_

_McCoy's gonna hum you a lullaby…_

He drew small circles on her back and continued to string the notes of the melody along in her ear. Right now, words would get in the way. More importantly he didn't know what to say. So he repeated his verse and returned to his dull drone. There were no wisecracks about the flatness of his voice or the fact that he obviously suffered from tone deafness. Just Uhura's deep sobs that awakened memories he'd buried under misplaced feelings of indifference and walls wide and tall enough to keep everyone out who dared to climb.

He understood.

They stayed that way for hours, settled on the floor, and locked in one another's arms.

**_Part III. Prayer Changes Things_**

_Our Father which art in heaven,_

_Hallowed be thy name,_

_Thy kingdom come,_

_Thy will be done_

_On earth as it is in heaven._

_Give us this day our daily bread._

_Forgive us our debts, _

_As we forgive our debtors._

_Lead us not into temptation,_

_But deliver us from evil. _

_For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, forever _

_Amen._

McCoy could remember the day he stopped talking to God. He didn't believe in a being that would watch one of his creation's lives fall apart without intervention. McCoy had thumbed through the Bible, reciting scripture after scripture. He'd ripped his clothes like the Old Testament prophets. He'd turned down his plate and fasted, denying his tongue the taste of Bourbon for nearly three months. He'd begged and pleaded for happiness to return to his home.

Instead God took his family.

He watched as Jocelyn held their daughter and turned her back on the life they'd vowed to protect. That was the day he saluted the man upstairs with a middle finger. He was content with the state of their relationship until the day Jocelyn's fear filled tone met his ear on the comm. link.

"Len she's missing. They can't find her."

A fear he'd never known settled in his chest and wafted towards the pit of his stomach. He reached for the bottle in the back of his desk and poured the first glass. He stared at it for seven minutes before he picked it up and smashed it into the desk.

"Come walk with me." Uhura ignored the blood and the scowl framing his face. She gripped his hand and together they walked down the corridors.

He was full of apprehension as they stood outside of the ship's chapel. The flame of the candles reminded him of the last exchange he'd had with God and the eternal fire that was surely waiting for his behind down below. He didn't budge when she moved closer to the door.

"I can't." McCoy didn't recognize his voice. There was uncertainty and shame.

Her grip tightened, "I'll help you."

At first he only mirrored her movements. He knelt on the bench, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. He was thankful that she refused to release his hand. He heard her first words. They were barely above a whisper.

"Our Father…"

And soon he was that five year old boy in Vacation Bible School who believed if he asked, God would do anything he desired. So he followed suit and recited the words found in Matthew the sixth chapter. His eyes shut tighter and he ignored the sting of the tears that burned behind the lids. His prayers became desperate as they shifted from the familiar lines every good Baptist child was taught to the words he so carefully hid in his heart.

"Just bring my baby home. Just bring Joanna back to her mama's arms."

When his spirit and voice failed him McCoy listened as Uhura took over. He cried as she continued without ceasing, never making a promise that neither of them could keep, but vowing to give him glory, honor, and praise for what he was going to do. All the time she never let go of his hand. Round and round they went lifting prayers in flurried and murmured tones. He apologized for the past. He asked for the strength to follow and obey in the future.

McCoy stood, eyes glazed over with tears and emotion. This time he broke down when her arms embraced him. He silenced his sobs when he felt her tiny hands making a familiar motion on his back.

Realization washed over him and McCoy took a step back. Before he could speak, Jim's voice interrupted, "They got her Bones – they got her – Jo's okay."

Uhura's hand slid from his as she leveled a soft kiss to his salty cheek. "See prayer changes things."

Truer words had never been spoken. Nyota Uhura was right, prayer changed everything.

**_Part IV. Games_**

Nyota created the first chink in his armor. She affected him in a way that no one had before. His love for his child was different. He would sacrifice his life, happiness, and comfort to make sure that Joanna had whatever she needed. Hell, he had offered his own life as payment if God would only return his daughter safely to her mother's arms. Never in all his years had he felt that way about someone he didn't have blood ties to; until Nyota Uhura opened his eyes.

At first he reacted like a lovesick teenager. McCoy lingered around the bridge during her shift, making small talk with the crew while his eyes stayed locked in her direction. He followed her interactions with the first officer and other men that he thought she would find attractive. He gossiped with Nurse Chapel with his toes crossed in his boots that Nyota's name would never be associated and filed under hot romantic topics of the moment. He stood outside of the door to her quarters like a trench coat wearing stalker debating whether or not to press the door panel.

Then there were the rare occasions he found himself speechless as he sat across from her in the mess hall. His mouth open and head full of fancy words and song lyrics destined to win any girl's heart. Nyota wasn't any girl. She could be…he cut the thought off before it fully bloomed and pushed around the mashed potatoes and gravy on his plate. When he raised his head she was staring, the corners of her mouth turned up into a wry smile that immediately made his cheeks flush.

They became partners in games of Spades and pool. When Jim gave him that devilish grin and pointed towards Uhura bent over the table and breaking the rack in their fourth game of the night. He waved off his friend's excitement and dampened his own with his standard reply, "We're just friends." He wasn't sure if the stick in her hands slipped or if she didn't like the words he spoke but a ball skipped the table and sent Cupcake to sickbay with a concussion.

His worst nightmare came true a few days later. He found Chapel surrounded by three younger nurses. He heard Nyota's name in the conversation followed by Giotto. The security team's newest member was damn near seven feet tall. His nickname was Romeo and that just didn't sit well in the pit of his stomach. There was talk about a date and how Latin men made the best lovers. He took a sick day and retired to his quarters all off of the negative emotions created by rumors.

He couldn't drink. If he was honest he didn't want a drink. Lonely drunks, led to old lonely drunks, who were tucked away in intergalactic nursing homes by their mortified children.

Jim stopped by in a failed attempt to cheer him up. Spock comm'd and offered to allow the doctor to insult him as much as possible if it would make him feel better. Somewhere between the third and fourth time he asked the ship's computer to check Nyota Uhura's location his door chimed.

McCoy dragged his body to the door, gave the command, and stood awe struck as his eyes landed on Nyota. She was out of uniform. Her hair hung straight down her back while her body was covered in a simple white tee and slim blue jeans.

"One little rumor and you lock yourself in your room." She winked, entered his quarters without asking and shot a quick, "Cry baby," over her shoulder.

Again he was dumbfounded. She'd read him. All the times he'd spent silent. The innocent hours spent on the bridge. The wasted time engaged in conversation with his head nurse. She'd played him and he was thankful.

"How was your date?" His voice cracked with the question.

Nyota shrugged her shoulders and folded her legs under her body as she took a spot on his sofa. "Giotto – Nice Guy – Big Muscles – Bright Smile – Little Brain."

He rolled his eyes, "You and your standards."

His comment struck a nerve, "Yes I have standards. Is it too much to ask that a man be handsome, intelligent, and willing to call me on my shit?"

"Good luck with that." The conversation irritated him and McCoy was ready to return to wallowing in self pity. There was no way he could be what Nyota needed or wanted.

"McCoy is it really so hard to believe that I like you?"

She'd never bitten her tongue with him. He loved that about her.

"Uhura…" He winced at the sound of his voice.

"That's not my name." She wasn't going to let him take the easy way out.

"Ny…what do you want from me?" He shut his eyes tightly and waited for her answer. This couldn't be love. It shouldn't be like. He was damaged. There was no way he could be that man for her. Not now…not ever…

When his eyes opened she was standing in front of him, arms folded across her chest, "Len, I'm only going to say this once, all I want is you."

**_Part V. Saving Me through You_**

No one expected the mission to go wrong, not even the resident scientist and hobgoblin. Spock had nodded in agreement with the Captain's plan. A small party would beam down to the neutral territory for a brief negotiation with the insurgents. Until now they'd proven to be intelligent, rational, and not given to intense episodes of violence. Surrounded by phaser fire, McCoy wondered what happened to the calm demeanor of the people who expressed a desire for peace on their small planet.

The redshirts were beyond recitation and that left defense to the members of the senior crew who beamed down for the meeting. This included Nyota, who was currently on the front line of battle, back pressed to the Captain and firing off round after round in the direction of their attackers. She'd engaged in hand to hand combat with a few of the warriors and they'd quickly learned that she was not easy prey.

McCoy saw the ray pointed in Nyota's direction. He knew that one hit was capable of ending her life; of ripping her from this world and his heart. He ran, faster than he ever had, folding his body through open spaces on their makeshift battle field. He hit, pushed, and maimed enemies on path that led to her. With a leap he twisted his body in front of her, absorbing the brunt of the ray's power. The scent of his burning flesh the last thing he remembered as he lost consciousness under the weight of the pain.

He woke aboard The Enterprise with Dr. M'Benga poised over him a tri-corder in one hand and a dermal regenerator in another. McCoy snatched the regenerator from his colleague's hand and threw it across the room. A searing pain sent him into a curse filled state. When he finished he looked his fellow doctor in the eyes and spoke his request. "Stitch me up. We do this the old fashioned way."

It was impossible for her to sneak up on him. He heard the first step of her foot when she entered sickbay. Part of him was sulking as he wondered what her reaction would be. Things were new between them. He had emotions that he should have expressed before today's events that he was just too chicken shit to relay. He relaxed in her touch allowing his head to roll back against her chest.

Nyota gasped when her hands found the stitches M'Benga had used to seal McCoy's wound. He swirled around on the stool to face her. For once he couldn't read her expression. His eyes closed and he sat patiently while she explored his battle wounds.

"Can you feel that?" McCoy's eyes shot open and his head turned from side to side in response to her question. Her fingertips traced the jagged scar. She could feel the roughness of the thread. Where his flesh was literally pulled back together and she couldn't help but wonder why. In an age of dermal regenerators and corrective surgery without recovery time; why did he go through the pain of a needle ripping through his flesh? Her fingers splayed across his chest. The beat of his heart could be felt under her palm. "Why," the internal question brought to life and spoken softly from her lips. He knew it wasn't an inquiry only about his course of treatment but the decision to risk his life for hers.

"You, I couldn't lose you." With eyes averted he moved to retrieve his undershirt. He slipped it over his head; ignoring the pain coursing through his body. Only when his arm was extended in the direction of the medical tunic tossed haphazardly on his chair did he feel that her touch had drifted lower. She clutched the shirt and wrestled it from his grasp. In one fluid motion, the blue fabric was lifted above his head and eased down on to his body. With great care not to disturb his injury, his limbs were folded into the sleeves of the final piece of his uniform.

Frightened to respond to the question still hanging between them, McCoy studied Nyota as she swallowed the lump lodged in her throat and whispered, "Thank you."

Finally the tension tightly coiled around his heart released and as his thumb connected with her face and brushed away her silent tears he admitted out loud the truth he'd carried for so long, "I would be nothing without you."


End file.
